Wasteland
by lightblue-Nymphadora
Summary: 100 Days of AUs. Santana's dead. She receives a surprise, not only in the fact that she's now in Hell, but also in who's there to greet her. Mentions Faberry and Quinntana. One-shot.


_**LbN: Day 4: Meet in Hell.**_

This wasn't right. This couldn't be right. She'd been brought up in a community who believed in saints and angels, and she'd followed that line of thought to the end. True, she'd never been much for organized religion, but she'd assumed the _idea _had been right. But something had gone wrong, no matter what she believed.

"No," she said. "This is wrong."

"I am never wrong," the Reaper said. "You are unworthy to meet the God you purported to serve."

"But I wasn't a bad person!" Santana shouted. "I wasn't evil!"

"You killed in cold blood. You lied and cheated and stole."

"It was to protect my family!"

"Perhaps at first, but not after the money began to come in. You hurt the innocent -"

"I did not!"

"You dealt with people who trafficked children. You tore parents away from their families. Your wealth, your comfort, your life, was forged on the backs of those who were most vulnerable. You were violent and wrathful, and for this…" the Reaper boomed. "For this you are sentenced to the Wasteland."

Santana tried to scream, tried to beg, but she couldn't. And then she was falling - falling through ice cold, biting air. Her lungs screamed for air, and she felt dizzy. There was no reprieve of unconsciousness, however. The pain continued for what felt like a lifetime, and then she hit the ground. It took a long time for her to stop aching and sit up. When she did, the world spun and she lay back down again, gasping for breath. Dust and bits of plant-like debris blew over her until finally, she sat up again.

It wasn't the hell she'd pictured. She'd always been taught that hell was a fiery pit. If she'd thought about it at all, and she hadn't, she would have at least pictured darkness. Instead, the dusty landscape that stretched out before her looked like a desert. It was light, but it was the red and purple light of a sunset. It should have been beautiful. There was a road of sorts, heading into the wind of course. Unsure of herself and still aching, she stood up and began to walk. Tiny specks of sand whipped at her face as she struggled to keep moving. She trudged on, into the wind. Through squinting eyes, she could make out tall shapes in the distance, as of buildings. With blind determination, she kept walking.

It wasn't long before the looming buildings came into sight. The wind had died down by then, and the air was filled with a sucking silence that was punctured every once in a while by a far off shriek or howl. Near the road, just to her left, there was a sign with swords and other cutting implements sticking out of it. The sign read:

_**Welcome to Hell. Pop. Unimaginable. Next Exit - Eternity**_

"That's not funny," she cried to the sky. She didn't even know if anyone was listening, but it made her feel better. She was about to inspect the weaponry, when something caught her eye.

The sand was swirling a little way off. It looked like something was taking shape in the dust.

Santana gripped the handle of a huge sword and tugged as hard as she could, but it wouldn't budge.

The demon that had materialized began to charge. It seemed to be all horns and teeth and tentacles.

Santana seized the handle of an axe and pulled it out of the sign just as the thing stretched out a tentacle to grab her. She chopped it off, and dodged one of his horns just in time. She jumped out of its way, rolling and scraping her knee on the ground. She groped for her axe, which had fallen a few feet to her left, and rolled as one of the demon's hooves came down. Scrambling to her feet, she readied herself for another attack.

The creature charged again, but this time it didn't get very far. A spear appeared in its chest, and it slumped over sideways.

Santana gaped at her rescuer. "...Quinn?"

The blonde pulled her spear out of the demon, which disintegrated back into dust. "You know," she panted. "When you left me, and I said I'd see you in hell, I didn't mean it literally."

* * *

><p>The city stood on the edge of a vast pit. Still no lake of fire Santana noted, but the scenes of carnage and torture, and the overpowering smell of blood and decay were quite enough without adding flames to it.<p>

"Why," she asked, drawing back from the window, "is there a path leading down into it?"

Quinn still looked out, staring at the rickety wooden gate. "Hope. You can come and go as you please, if you can manage it. The truly evil are sent down there, and demons will try and drag you down. But if a demon takes you into the abyss, the only way you're getting out is if someone comes to save you. You can imagine how often that doesn't happen."

"I'm thirsty," Santana said. Well, it was true, and she couldn't think of anything better to say.

Quinn snorted. "Tough. I've been thirsty, and tired, and hungry since I got here. You never get used to it, either. The days run together, but new arrivals tell me it's been three years."

"How'd… how did you wind up here?" Santana asked.

"I believe the Reaper mentioned pride, avarice, and my abusive nature."

"Come on," Santana said. "You're telling me he held you up to who you were in high school?"

"It never stopped. I never hurt Rachel physically, but the night I died she'd served me divorce papers. The emotional and mental abuse had finally gotten to her, and she was afraid I'd escalate with our daughter."

"How did you die?"

Quinn stared at the ground for a while before moving to the small table. The flat only had one room, with a mattress and thin blanket in the corner, and a table across from it. She rummaged around in a bag and pulled out an old t-shirt, which she tore and wrapped around Santana's knee. "When Rachel gave me the divorce papers, I… didn't know what to do. She was mine - my everything - and she'd be gone as soon as the judge gave her the okay. I told her that I understood, and she took Gabby and went to a hotel for the night. I drank an entire bottle of Grey Goose -"

"Jesus, Quinn!"

"And crashed my motorcycle into the lake by our house. What about you? What became of Santana Lopez after she left 22-year-old me standing at the altar?"

Santana shrugged. "Got in with the wrong people, started making money. Finally settled down with my ill-gotten gains. Got shot by a cop in a sting."

"Drug dealer - that's so fucking cliche."

"I wasn't dealing drugs."

"The hell were you doing then?"

"Everything. Underground gambling events, illegal fighting rings… toward the end, our part of the organization got caught up in human trafficking. It was pretty bad, but…." She stopped talking, and shrugged again.

The wind began to howl again, and this time, Santana could hear the screams it carried from the pit.

Quinn got up and closed the blinds.

* * *

><p>Even though Quinn had told her it was pointless, Santana still kept track of the days. There weren't cycles in the way there had been on earth, but there were periods of quiet, versus periods of activity. She kept track of those - there was nothing else to do. One...two...three….<p>

For the most part, they kept to the small room, entertaining each other with stories of their wasted lives. There was literally nothing else to do.

"Broke a 19-year-old kid's jaw because he owed me money."

"Embezzled about five grand from a company going under, bought it, and resold it at a huge profit. And fired all the old workers."

"Killed this man in front of his wife and kids."

"I'm probably the reason Rachel has panic attacks."

There were a few others they met who didn't seem too awful, but this was hell after all, and they weren't taking any chances by organizing a social group. So they kept to themselves unless absolutely necessary, and tried to imagine a way out of eternity here. Quinn had been right about one thing - the hunger and thirst never went away. And thanks to the symphony of screams, she couldn't sleep either. Still, she kept count. Thirty five...thirty-six...thirty seven….

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew what she was doing. Trying to do a countdown, even though she was counting to nothing. Even though there was no end to this, maybe, if she kept count, there would be. Numbers can't go on forever.

Three hundred and forty-one… three hundred and forty-two… three hundred and forty-three….

"I think a scouting party just came back," Quinn said one day, looking out of their window. "They go out, find the little food there is and some other stuff. That's how I got my bag and t-shirts. I've been out of food for ages, though. Since before you got here, even. Let's go."

Santana grabbed her axe, and followed Quinn down to the street. She spotted a crowd around a group of five burly men. "It seems like there should be more people…."

"Some people go mad. They stop coming out of their room. And there are plenty of people in the pit."

As they moved closer, natural suspicion overtook Santana. She kept her eyes trained on one of the scouts in particular. Each of them had a huge canvas sack strapped over their shoulders, the body of which was dragged behind them on the ground. This man that Santana watched hadn't opened his with all the rest. "Quinn. We should go back inside."

"What? You're kidding? I just saw Oslo hand someone a case of beer. There's no way -"

They were interrupted by a screech. A demon tore its way out of the last man's sack and spread its huge, scaly wings. It dove, piercing people with it's beak and talons. Everything happened so fast that the people were stunned. The maimed ones lay on the ground, moaning, and everyone else ran about, screaming. Santana was one of the few who had brought a weapon - the demons couldn't get into the city unless invited.

The man she'd been wary of was on his knees, laughing insanely as he slowly melted into the sand.

Quinn, who'd brought a weapon as well, threw her spear at the thing. She missed.

Santana chucked her axe, and missed as well, and the creature charged her. It didn't pierce her though. Instead, it gripped Quinn in its mighty talons and took to the air again.

"Quinn!" Santana yelled, running after them.

Quinn was screaming her name - fighting the demon all the while, but it didn't let her go. It flew with her in it's grip down into the pit.

Santana sprinted harder, rushing to the edge of the Abyss. She skidded to a stop and watched the creature fly into a low mountain cave with Quinn.

"Santana." It was Devon, one of the scouts.

She pushed him away. "You let him bring that thing back?" she screamed.

"We didn't know he had it! These aren't wild animals, Santana," he said. "They can get in your head. You saw him...you saw him melt. He must've…." Devon broke off, clearly shaken.

Santana said nothing, but walked back up the path to the city. She stooped in front of the last building to retrieve her axe. She gathered the food that had been dropped into a bag like Quinn's - some crackers, a cannister of jerky, and a canteen of water - and then she turned back. For a moment, she hesitated just in front of the rickety fence. Then she shouldered the bag and gripped her axe, stepping onto the path that led into the pit.

She was going to bring Quinn back.

_**FIN**_

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>LbN: Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated. Still a little time to vote for Day 5's prompt. Currently "Mermaid" is winning. We've also got one "Other" vote for succubus. :)<strong>_


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